


Sometimes you're still mine

by failurebydesign



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Casual Sex, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 11:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14354940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/failurebydesign/pseuds/failurebydesign
Summary: “I guess,” Tito says, shifting so that he’s sitting up and Mat’s hand drops down. “I wanted to do it just one more time, you know?”“Oh,” Mat says, pulling himself up, off of the mattress as he feels what he think might be his world crashing down around him.(Or Mat falls in love with Tito, Tito meets someone new.)





	Sometimes you're still mine

**Author's Note:**

> If you found this upon googling, exit immediately. This is a complete work of fiction and in no way am I implying that anything written in here is true. Stories are not meant to be circulated or shared with those written in them. All is loosely based on some real events, that is all.
> 
> So once I asked for a few words to "prompt" my mind and then lotts attacked me with the theme of "jealousy." This story is what became of that.
> 
> Thank you to glazedsun, ellie, grace, and lotts for some little beta work and everyone else who read and cheered me on along the way. You're all the best!

The season ends on _sort_ of a high note, winning their last three games. It feels good, despite not making the playoffs. Mat gets an invite to Worlds, then Jordan and finally, two weeks after Mat’s invite, Tito. 

Mat feels optimistic, because it isn’t playoffs, but it’s him and his linemates competing for Canada gold.

They have a celebratory lunch of burgers and fries, because there’s a good month before they need to worry about training again. Though Mat is looking forward to a little bit of a break and some downtime, he’s happy when he’s surrounded by good food and friends.

“I think I might fly home for a week or so, do some training,” Mat says, not long after their food arrives. “Or just, hang out here. I haven’t decided.” 

The concept is a little new to Mat, not knowing where to go when the season ends. Home is the simple answer, but there’s the World Championship with some some of the people he formed such a tight bond with that leaving is a little difficult.

“I’m going to visit my family,” Tito says, busying himself with a text message and Jordan nods in agreement, mouth full of food.

Mat misses his friends back in Coquitlam and of course his family, but knows, now that he’s broken into the NHL, things are different. His first game back in Vancouver was fun until it was nerve-wracking—surrounded by more media than he’s ever seen in his life, followed down the streets by people who recognized him and tugged in several different directions until he was safe and sound on the flight back to New York.

It isn’t terrible and he won’t complain—Mat is proud of his roots. But he’s also tired from a long, disappointing season and a little bit of relaxation sounds… nice?

“I heard Chabby’s going to Jamaica.” Mat thought about texting him, but he wasn’t going to invite himself along when he’s pretty sure it’s some sort of romantic-slash-sexcapades type of getaway that he wants no part of. He’s not sleeping with Chabby anymore, anyway.

“Nice.” Tito doesn’t look up from his phone when he grabs a few french fries.

Mat rolls his eyes, because it isn’t like Tito to be so engrossed in his phone, but he’s more than likely planning a week full of activities for his trip home. Then, suddenly, Tito sets his phone down for the first time all afternoon, eyes a bit wide.

“I think I have a date tonight.”

“Good for you, man,” Jordan says with a genuine smile.

“Like, a real one?” Mat asks.

It’s probably the last thing he expects from Tito and starts to laugh, half out of surprise. Mat has to laugh, because there’s no way Tito—the same Tito he’s been hooking up with for the past several months, is going on a date. He didn’t even know that Tito had been talking to anyone.

Jordan frowns, shaking his head at Mat. He doesn’t seem to find it funny, but Jordan also doesn’t know the context behind it—how many nights Mat and Tito have spent sharing a bed.

“Yes, a real one.” Tito rolls his eyes, lifts his phone up again and pulls up a photo that he practically shoves in Mat’s face. 

Mat doesn’t see anything spectacular—dark hair and eyes, a stupid smirk. There’s nothing extraordinary about this guy, at least from Mat’s point of view. “He looks like a douchebag,” Mat decides.

Tito frowns and it makes Mat feel bad for a split second, before he remembers that his best friend has been withholding information from him.

“I thought you said you didn’t need an app to get laid.” Mat isn’t a hypocrite—he has no problem to admitting he’s used apps before he and Tito found their own routine.

“Hey,” Tito says, pulling his phone back. “It’s not like that—a sex thing. We’re being classy and having dinner.”

“I’m pretty sure people have sex after dinner all of the time,” Jordan says, which isn’t helping the matter. “Especially with guys who are their type.”

Mat snorts at that, because how would Jordan know what Tito’s type is, anyway? He must have some inkling of an idea, because his ribbing causes Tito’s cheeks to flush crimson.

“Shut up,” Tito says, quieter than normal and ducks his head. It’s uncharacteristic of Tito to be shy about anything.

“So you’re into jerks?” Mat laughs. “I mean, he’s from Manhattan. It’s, like, inevitable, man.”

“Whatever,” Tito says, standing up. “I have to go figure out what’s acceptable to wear on my date and no, Mat, you’re not dressing me.”

“Your mistake, dude.” Mat shrugs. He’s fine with it, because there’s an unexpected voice the back of his head, like a cartoon devil on his shoulder that tells Mat he doesn’t want to help Tito, anyway—that he hopes Tito botches the date. If it all goes wrong he’ll be calling him later, begging to fuck.

“I’ll see you two later,” Tito says, distinctly irritated, and tosses some money on the table. 

“Later,” Mat repeats, unable to pinpoint why Tito’s suddenly so annoyed and why that, subsequently, annoys _him_.

The second Tito is gone, Jordan bursts out laughing.

“Glad you think it’s funny?” Mat makes a face that he hopes reads _what the fuck_ , reaches across the table and grabs the fries Tito left behind. He isn’t stress eating, he tells himself, as he shoves a handful of fries into his mouth.

“Dude, are you blind?” Jordan says, in between some pretty ridiculous tear-inducing laughter. “That guy looked just like you!”

“That’s—c’mon man, don’t be fucked up,” Mat says, mouth full of food. He tries to think back to the photo he only saw, if briefly. They have similar features, he supposes, and if they were next to each other in a dark room, _maybe_ he could see someone confusing them. But this guy’s nose was too big, eyes too close together and Mat stands by the fact that this guy still looks like a total asshole. 

“I mean, it wouldn’t surprise anyone,” Jordan shoots back with a pleased grin.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Mat asks, tossing a fry at Jordan.

“Why were you two so pissed at each other?” Jordan crosses his arms across his chest, smug. “Figure it out, man.”

Mat likes to think his teammates are oblivious—that no one actually knows he and Tito have sex—quite frequently at that. But then, Jordan comes at him with something like that and Mat spends the rest of his day trying to figure out what that means.

***

Mat is ready to call it an early night when a text from Tito comes through. It’s the usual, _come over_ , and Mat, feeling a bit smug, takes his time to reply.

_right now?_

He’s already in the car when Tito texts back a yes.

Mat lets himself in and finds Tito, in just a pair of sweatpants, sitting on the couch, mindlessly flipping through television channels, like his mind can’t settle on just one. He acknowledges Mat, but doesn’t stop changing the channel because, from what Mat can tell, everything is just an endless loop of commercials.

“Good thing I’m here to save you from boredom,” Mat says, leaving his shoes by the door.

He already knows the routine and doesn’t wait for Tito to get off of the couch, just rounds the corner and slips into his bedroom. There’s clothing everywhere—a hoodie on the bed, a few shirts and a sock on the floor. Not that Mat can judge, his room isn’t any better.

Mat decides to clear off the bed, pulls up the sheets and then spreads the crumpled comforter across the unkempt bed. It’s a half-assed attempt of bringing a little bit of order to Tito’s bedroom, but it works.

When the outside noise disappears, Mat knows Tito has shut off the television.

“In a hurry?” Tito asks, when he reaches the doorway and Mat is already back on his feet, pulling his shirt up and over his head. 

“I just know what I want,” he says, confident that Tito’s thinking the same by the way he closes in on him, hands gripping at Mat’s hips.

“How do you know I didn’t want to watch a movie?” Tito says.

“Do you?” Mat raises an eyebrow. “Because I can put my shirt back on.”

“You can’t watch a movie shirtless?” Tito tilts his head up, mouth inches away from Mat’s.

Mat shakes his head quickly, mouth slotting against Tito’s. They kiss, standing and pressed together for just a few moments and then Mat, breaking off, says, “ _You_ can’t watch a movie if I’m shirtless.”

“I can,” Tito says, then inhales when Mat’s mouth hovers over his neck, because it’s obvious he isn’t going to. “Just. Not tonight.”

“Good.” Mat slips his hand down the front of Tito’s pants once he’s exhausted whatever weird type of foreplay this is.

“You made my bed?” Tito laughs, fingertips fluttering against Mat’s stomach as he gives his waistband a singular tug. 

“No, just, made it look like less of a mess.” Mat grins and pushes Tito’s pants down.

“Just going to mess it up again,” Tito says, nipping at Mat’s neck. It’s clear he’s not much in the mood for any more small talk either, not that Mat minds. “Might mess you up a bit, too.”

And _fuck_. Mat’s pretty sure he forgets to breathe in that moment.

He hands all control over to Tito pretty quickly after that.

Little time passes before Mat finds himself on his back, pressed against the mattress and moaning a bit louder than he intends to. Tito wastes even less time and gets gets to work, his mouth wet and slick around Mat’s dick. 

Tito’s always been good like that, unselfish and getting Mat warmed up before the real show. He threads his fingers through Tito’s hair, encouraging him with short, satisfied gasps.

Tito hums, his tongue working over Mat, who in turn, is so focused on Tito’s mouth that he barely registers the click of a cap snapping shut. Mat moves, easily, when Tito moves between his legs and when Tito’s finger, slick with lube, presses in and sends a jolt through his body, Mat mentally adds _making him fall apart_ to the list of things that only Tito’s been able to perfect.

“Fuck,” Mat says, with a shudder, when he’s good and ready, pretty sure he’s going to come if Tito doesn’t stop soon. Then, he looks down, meets Tito’s glassy-eyed gaze and nearly bites his tongue.

Tito lifts his head, lips pinker than usual. He wipes the the corner of his wet mouth with the back of his free hand, moves up the bed so that he’s level with Mat and leans in. 

Mat fumbles a bit and no longer bothers with words, just pulls Tito down by his broad shoulders and traces his bottom lip with his tongue.

“Good?” Tito asks, eyes a bit darker than normal, full attention on Mat.

“Yes,” Mat says, quickly, knowing his voice comes out sounding a little strained, his actions, hips rolling up and hands splayed over Tito’s back, nothing short of desperate. Tito kisses him once more, rough and hungry and Mat stops caring about how needy he’s being the exact moment that Tito fulfills those needs and slips inside of him.

It’s no different from every other time they’ve fucked—a bit rough and primal, hands all over one another, bodies moving together with matched desperation.

Tito whispers in Mat’s ear that he’s going to come with the slightest shudder. once he does, he slips his fingers around Mat’s dick until he comes, too, Tito stroking him through the tail end of it all. Once they’ve finished, Tito rolls in to his back, eyes half-closed and they’re both silent, save for their heavy breathing.

Mat’s mind wanders, because Tito smells like cologne. It’s the first thing he notices when he’s no longer too driven to think about anything but getting off. He wonders if Tito put it on for his date—the date that obviously didn’t end that well if Mat’s the one in bed next to Tito, bottom half covered in his come.

“Your date was that bad, huh?” Maybe it’s the post-sex bliss that causes Mat to say it, because a stirring in his gut tells him he doesn’t really want to hear the answer.

Tito lowers his gaze, like he might actually be ashamed about something that he’s not yet admitted to. “No.”

“Well you’re here, so,” Mat says, willing his breathing back to normal, except now, he has a secondary reason for his breath to be erratic and shaky.

“Yeah, uh.” Tito chews on his bottom lip and Mat knows he isn’t going to like whatever Tito has to say next.

“What?” Mat asks, closing his eyes. If he doesn’t look at Tito, then maybe it’ll soften the blow when he speaks, certain he’s more than likely seconds away from being told he’s been replaced.

“It went really well, actually,” Tito says.

Mat opens his eyes, because something tells him he has to look at Tito. Because maybe if Tito sees his face, he can read his disappointment. Their agreement, though a silent one, is something that Mat knows is coming to an abrupt end.

“Wait, was this—” Mat can’t bring himself to finish that thought, when he knows they’ve just about established that this was, all along, a sex only arrangement. He sinks his fingers into Tito’s shoulder, willing him to look, but Tito doesn’t succumb to his touch this time and turns away. He knows it’s bad if Tito can’t even look him in the eye.

“I guess,” Tito says, shifting so that he’s sitting up and Mat’s hand drops down. “I wanted to do it just one more time, you know?”

“Oh,” Mat says, pulling himself up, off of the mattress as he feels what he think might be his world crashing down around him.

Everything from there is a blur. He remembers getting dressed, quickly, making an excuse about having somewhere to be in the morning. Tito doesn’t question it, which means he must know that Mat, like him, is just looking for an easy out. He’s at least thankful for that.

When Mat goes to bed, he lies awake and wonders why his chest is heavy, like he’s just been on the receiving end of a terrible breakup. It’s a feeling that Mat’s never been too familiar with—he’s usually the one breaking hearts, unintentionally. 

So, even though Mat doesn’t typically believe it, he thinks that maybe it’s karma that’s finally caught up with him. This time, he’s pretty certain that Tito—the first one who made his heart full, shattered it just as quickly.

***

Mat turns his phone off about half a week into the off-season. He isn’t being dramatic, but he has no reason to talk to anybody about feelings that he doesn’t understand and knows he shouldn’t have.

Seids is fine with Mat moping around in his basement for approximately four days before he puts his foot down. 

Mat’s pretty certain that though accommodating and understanding, Seids is borderline out of his mind with his children by the noise they’ve been making for a good portion of the morning. From what he could hear upstairs, they’ve been itching to use their playroom, asking when Mat plans on getting out of bed.

“You need to go outside,” Seids says, rubbing his temples from what Mat can only attribute to a child-induced headache. “I know we’ve made this your space, but the kids—some of it’s theirs, too and—”

He’s interrupted by two of his children, one shrieking and the other whining that she’s bored.

“I’m not asking you to babysit or play games with them,” Seids continues, pretending that he can’t see one of his children peering around the corner. “And I don’t know what’s going on, but if you need to talk, I’m willing to listen.”

There’s a crash from upstairs and Seids takes a long, deep breath. Mat’s pretty sure he’s counting to ten internally. When he finishes his mental countdown, he says, “Once these kids burn themselves out.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Mat says, which he knows is a blatant lie. But Seids is married, has children and couldn’t possibly know what trouble comes from sleeping with your best friend. If he does, Mat’s not so sure he _wants_ to know.

“I’m sending them down,” Seids says, suddenly. “So please, for your sanity. Go outside.”

Mat’s pretty sure it’s raining, but lacks the energy to argue that point. 

“Yeah, okay,” Mat says, feeling a bit guilty. Seids is a cool guy, but it’s still his house and he’s doing Mat a favor. “Let me just—” Mat grabs a few items of clothing, his keys and wallet. “Five minutes, okay?”

So Mat pulls on a t-shirt that he hopes is clean and attempts to piece his life back together. He settles on a black hoodie that he tugs on over his t-shirt and then, exactly five minutes later, the kids, loud and each their own separate bundles of energy, tear their way downstairs.

It is raining, Mat discovers when he walks to his car. He doesn’t know where he’s going so he takes a few minutes to sit in silence and watch the way the rain splashes against his windshield as it all melts into itself. He starts the car, hits the wiper button and watches it clear out, in an act that seems oddly cathartic.

He just about jumps out of his skin when there’s a knock at his passenger window and then, Tito gets in, slightly wet and looking worse for wear.

“You haven’t been answering my texts.” Tito says.

Mat glances at his phone that’s now in the cup holder, still off. In his defense, he had assumed Tito was too busy to text him, anyway and the last time he even texted anyone was his dad, while trying to plan a short trip home.

He doesn’t have a good enough excuse to give so just shrugs, “Sorry.”

“Seids said you were living like a hermit.”

Mat didn’t even know Seids and Tito talked.

“We’re not all domestic and dating like you,” Mat says, a little more biting than he intends. He isn’t sure why he wants Tito to feel so badly for doing something that’s natural to him. Tito’s his best friend and logically, Mat wants him to be happy. He just—wants Tito happy with _him_.

“Oh.” Tito frowns and it doesn’t make Mat feel better. If anything, it makes him feel a whole lot worse.

Mat closes his eyes, listening to the heavy rain. It’s soothing and though it doesn’t take away his pain; it helps, at least until Tito places a hand over his. Mat hates everything cliché about love (love he reminds himself, when he opens his eyes and looks at Tito), but he swears if there’s a way to exchange electricity through simple touch, Tito is there causing him to light right up.

“I’m going to Quebec for a few days,” Tito finally says, breaking the silence.

“Today?” Mat doesn’t know why he’s taken aback when he’s been avoiding Tito for days. Both had planned on going home at some point, if only for a short while. But there’s something about Tito telling him now after days of not speaking that makes it so sudden.

“Tomorrow.”

Mat wants to ask _is your boyfriend going with you_ , but doesn’t, because the pad of Tito’s thumb rubs small circles into the back of his hand, grounding him there on the spot. His heart skips a beat, which he tries to ignore because this is Tito, his _best friend_ , doing what he does best—being a friend. 

“Are you going home?” Tito asks, when Mat stays quiet.

“I don’t know, maybe” he admits. “I have a lot to figure out.”

“Okay, well.” Tito moves his hand away. “Just thought you should know.”

Mat watches as Tito’s hand reaches for the car handle. His head feels a bit jumbled up, because Tito’s gives him hope, takes it away and it’s just a big mess of mixed signals that leaves him more confused than he was at the start. He knows there has to be more of a reason why Tito is there, not just to say goodbye—again.

“Wait.” Mat holds his breath. He could kiss Tito, quickly, just to see if what he’s feeling is just his mind playing some sick joke on him. But then, Tito shifts, uncomfortably.

“I’m going to be late,” Tito says, apologetic. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Seids said—”

Of course, Mat thinks. Seids.

And he regrets it, but asks, anyway. “Late?”

“Lunch,” Tito says, then glances at his phone.

When Tito leaves, it rains even harder.

***

Three days pass before the sun is out, but Tito is also gone and Mat sees no point in going anywhere.

After a week, Mat is just as stir-crazy as the Seidenberg kids. He doesn’t feel like going into the city, but does, just for a change of scenery. It’s a lot easier to blend in when hockey season has passed and no one seems to care anymore. 

He grabs a coffee and considers just riding the train and seeing where it takes him, but decides that’s a terrible idea. There’s nothing fun about being crammed in there with a bunch of noisy tourists. 

His phone vibrates when he leaves the coffee shop and he’s surprised to see that it’s Tito saying hello.

whats up, Mat responds.

_back in town…. dinner ?_

_dinner sounds_ —He begins to type, because, dinner sounds what? Amazing? Not when he’s pretty sure Tito’s only inviting him out of pity. He hits the backspace key and settles on responding with, _ok_.

Mat thinks that he’s over it, that he has his life in control and can play it cool no problem. He can be the best friend that Tito deserves and enjoy dinner as just that— _friends_. Then, he gets to the restaurant, sees Tito waiting for him, and his heart betrays him, skipping a beat.

His assessment that Tito must be feeling guilty rings true, because at the end, he foots the bill, too. It isn’t an expensive restaurant, but Mat knows that Tito’s making some sort of statement.

And dinner is nice, but it solves nothing.

At the very least, at least he and Tito are talking again.

“What are you doing tonight?” Mat asks.

“Just going home, chillin’, you?” Tito looks tired, like there’s something unspoken weighing heavy on his mind.

“I could chill with you?” Mat knows what it sounds like he’s implying, but doesn’t correct himself. He’s been thinking about kissing Tito for days, he realizes, when his eyes settle on Tito’s mouth. 

Tito pauses, like he’s considering, then frowns. “Maybe tomorrow night?”

“Can we do lunch tomorrow?” Mat knows the answer, but smiles anyway. He doesn’t want to guilt Tito into spending time with him, despite feeling like it’s been more than impossible as of late. “I’ll buy.”

“Can’t.” Tito frowns. “You know I always get lunch—”

“Yeah.” Mat cuts him off, because it isn’t like he’s forgotten. “We’ll just have to make the best of Denmark then, huh?” 

His smile is forced. It’s really the best he can ask for at this point. They’ll be busy—Mat knows he can't take any tournament lightly, but the prospect of rooming with Tito in another country, brings him hope.

***

Moving on is the logical thing to do, so of course, Mat doesn’t.

He goes home for a few days, just to clear his mind and get a fresh start. His family is happy to see him and it’s much earlier to settle back into his life in Coquitlam than he expects.

Mat’s family doesn’t ask about Tito, which is a relief. He wonders if it’s at all obvious to those who are outside of his lines little hockey bubble if Jordan is this observant. It doesn’t stop him from thinking about Tito quite often, but Tito doesn’t really text him much, so Mat doesn’t, either.

He hangs out with his friends and one night, gets really fucking drunk. And it helps, at least briefly, until he’s in one shot too many and he becomes one of those emotional drunks that he hates.

Mat pulls out his phone mid-Uber ride and calls Tito. When it rings twice and goes straight to voicemail, Mat knows his call was ignored. He knows he’s stubborn and not thinking at his highest potential when he calls again. At the very least, he can leave a voicemail.

When he hops out of the car, Tito answers.

“What is it?” A scratchy, sleepy voice answers and, fuck—Mat’s forgotten the time zone difference.

“Hey.” It’s not the most eloquent or intelligent thing to say when he’s pretty sure he just woke Tito up in the middle of the night. But it’s all Mat has when the sound of Tito’s voice is enough to make him weak in the knees.

“Mat.” Tito sighs, then falls silent, his breathing steady. Mat thinks he’s fallen back asleep, but then, “Are you okay?”

Mat makes more noise than he intends on when he unlocks the front door and makes his way inside. His parents are asleep, or at least were, before Mat somehow takes out the coat rack after taking care to close the door as quietly as possible. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, almost dropping his phone in the process.

“Are you... drunk?” Tito’s voice is a little less scratchy the longer he’s awake. “Where are you?”

“Home,” Mat says, doing his best to clean up the mess he’s made—the physical and, he supposes, emotional. Once he thinks all of the coats are cleaned up (they aren’t), Mat finds his way to the couch because it’s the closest soft surface. “ _Home_ home. And maybe, I don’t know?”

“Oh.” Tito sounds more exhausted than anything. 

“Can we talk?” Mat kicks off his shoes and falls back onto the couch.

“Right now?” Tito asks, muffling a yawn. “It’s 4 A.M. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” 

In sober Mat’s universe, it could wait, but drunk Mat feels like not talking to Tito right at that moment means that it’s the end of the world as he knows it. Drunk Mat wants to get on a plane, fly to Tito and kiss him until they melt together as one.

“I miss you,” are the only words that Mat is able to force out, because if he’s honest, he does. He misses their friendship—the way Tito makes him laugh, easily and the way he feels when he makes Tito laugh in return. And if he’s _really_ honest, then he misses the perks of shared hotel rooms, kissing under the blankets and the amazing sex that always followed.

He doesn’t get an answer. Not because Tito doesn’t miss him—he might, he hopes, but because the only answer Mat receives comes in the form of Tito’s soft snoring that resonates through the receiver.

***

Mat flies back to New York, feeling, save from one pretty terrible hangover, mostly refreshed and ready to get back in the swing of training. Tito doesn’t mention him calling in the middle of the night, nor does Mat bring it up. It isn’t important, because Tito is still talking about this guy he’s met and Mat—Mat’s unadmittedly jealous.

He still hangs out with Tito, sometimes, but most of their time is limited and consists of Tito sending stupid snapchats back and forth to his Snap story, and probably the guy he’s dating—screwing, whatever. Mat doesn’t know and he doesn’t ask.

Once in awhile, Mat convinces Tito into breakfast, and they train together, which is nice, but it feels more like work than two friends hanging out and shooting the shit. Mat suggests lunch, sometimes, but lunch has become Tito’s thing with someone else and for Mat, that _sucks_.

When he questions Tito one morning, mid-workout, his suggestion never makes it off the ground.

“When are you going to introduce me to this guy?” Mat grabs his water bottle and takes a long drink.

“It’s still new.” Tito sets down the weights he was using and shrugs. “I mean, I tried.”

“How am I supposed to approve of this guy if I never get to meet him?” He’ll never actually approve of this guy, but Mat isn’t telling Tito that. 

“Who says I need your approval?” Tito grins.

It makes Mat feel… warm all over, but especially inside. He’s jealous as hell and knows meeting this guy would just result in Mat trying to one up him all night. No one can make Tito laugh like he can. Maybe Tito’s not ready for it. Maybe Mat is just too intense.

“You always ask the best friend for approval,” Mat says, matter-of-factly. Because you do.

Tito hums, trying to hide a smile. “Are you my best friend?”

“Yes?” Mat raises an eyebrow, prompting Tito for some validation. 

“You’re right,” Tito agrees and this time, doesn’t hide the smile that’s meant for Mat.

It’s the longest Mat’s had Tito to himself in while—no phones or outside interruptions. When they’re finished working out, Mat refrains from asking about lunch.

***

Mat’s life becomes this routine of wake up, eat, work out, eat, sleep, repeat. He doesn’t deny the Seidenberg kids from their playroom, just pops in his headphones when he’s feeling extra antisocial and that lasts for about four days before Seids confronts him—again.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you and Beau, but if you two fought, you need to make things right.” Seids says one morning while his wife is busy making the family breakfast.

“We didn’t fight,” Mat says, busying himself at the keurig. “He’s dating or something.”

“You should tell him,” Rebecca says, pouring a bowl of cereal for one of the children.

“Tell me _what_?” Mat looks between the two of them, cupping his coffee mug.

Seids give his wife a knowing look, one Mat knows all too well. He’s going to have a talking to later on for sure. But Mat’s thankful that there’s still some sort of code that holds true, even outside of the locker room.

“Rebecca saw Beau at the café down the street,” Seids says, pretending he doesn’t see Rebecca’s look of disapproval. “The one her friend owns.”

“So?” Mat doesn’t see how it’s relevant. “I think he knows how to eat without me around.”

“That’s the thing,” Rebecca says with a sigh. “He goes there every afternoon, alone.”

There’s something knowing in her voice and Mat tries to play it off, takes a long sip of his coffee, but it’s still a bit too hot to be enjoyable. He can’t help but wonder what it is that she knows.

Mat thinks about it, how Tito’s somehow busy every time he invites him to lunch, how Tito doesn’t invite him over anymore and how _distant_ he realizes he suddenly is from his best friend.

He pulls out his phone, because if Tito is ignoring him, he needs to test this theory. 

_lunch today?_

When there’s no answer, Mat rolls his eyes.

“If you ever need any relationship advice,” Rebecca begins.

“What?” Mat nearly spills his coffee. “No!”

Because living with a veteran, his wife and children isn’t unconventional enough, he’s now has to swerve the whole awkward are-you-in-love-with-your-teammate conversation with his other teammate’s wife. 

“You should talk to him,” Rebecca says, leaving it at that.

The smirk on Seids’ face is telling and Mat wonders how long he’s been so obvious about his apparent crush on Tito. Then, Mat’s phone vibrates and he grabs it, quickly, which does him no favors if he’s trying to deny his feelings.

“Well?” Seids says when Mat checks his phone.

“He says he’s busy, _dad_.” Then Mat shoves his phone into his pocket with a shrug, like he isn’t already thinking about what he’s going to say when he hauls his ass down to the café later.

***

Mat’s calm and casual when he walks up to the café, despite his heartbeat quickening when he walks through the door and spots Tito sitting in the corner. He’s alone, as expected, slowly sipping from a cup of coffee at a table that very clearly has just one single place setting.

He bypasses the waitress, stops in front of Tito’s table and realizes he doesn’t have a script for this. Tito lifts his head, as if in slow motion, eyes growing wide when he seems to register that it’s Mat he’s looking at.

“What the—” Tito goes a bit pale, blinking like he’s hoping Mat’s a mirage. “What are you doing here?” 

“Where’s your date?” Mat makes a point to look around.

“Bathroom,” Tito says quickly, then, “Now please leave?”

“Tito.”

“Mat.” Tito reaches for his coffee, nervous expression shifting, little annoyed to see that Mat had just materialized in his regular spot like that.

Mat stays and, despite Tito’s request, pulls out the seat across from him and sits. When the waitress comes over, he orders a coffee for himself. He doesn’t need another one, for sure, but he leans back in the chair and hopes it’s enough to show Tito that he isn’t leaving.

“I’ll just leave then.” Tito stands up, fumbling with his wallet.

“Wait,” Mat reaches out and grabs Tito by the arm. “Without your date?” 

“I don’t have one!” Tito pulls him arm free and glares at Mat, like he’s just dug up some painful secret of his.

“Anthony,” Mat says, sighing. “I know.”

“Wait, what?” A beat, and then Tito sits back down.

“Seids—his wife, actually.”

Tito looks down at his hands, mouthing, “fuck.”

Mat pauses when the waitress comes back with his coffee. He smiles, thanks her and blows at the steam that rises off of the top of his mug. Once the waitress walks off, he frowns at Tito.

“What the fuck did you lie about it for?” Mat tests the coffee, but it’s too hot to drink, burning a little, so he sets it back down. Still, he favors that over the epiphany that Tito’s been blatantly avoiding him for weeks.

“Can we just,” Tito says, waving the waitress over. He smiles at her, “Can we get the check? Put it all on one for me.”

Tito doesn’t talk again again they’re outside. It’s quieter and save for a stray car that passes by now and again, they’re alone.

“We went out, like, five times?” Tito is chewing his bottom lip, like there’s so much more he’s needing to say. “I mean, I liked him, a lot. We came here a few times. But he—you’re right. He was a douchebag.” 

“I could have told you that,” Mat says, being unhelpful, but also so right. 

“Yeah, thanks.” Tito sighs, running a hand over his face. “Guess I thought that someone finally liked me for more than just, you know, sex.”

It kind of hits home for Mat, knowing that all of this time, Tito thought these things about Mat. That Mat wasn’t into him when all along he was— _still_ is all about Tito. He grabs Tito’s hand, coffee in the other, because it seems like the right thing to do and when Tito doesn’t yank it back, he leans in.

Tito freezes, first, but Mat goes in expecting that. Mat backs off, just slightly, and Tito parts his lips, fitting their mouths together. Mat might be dreaming. Tito is soft, smells like cologne and is kissing Mat—Mat who lets his eyes fall shut and kisses him back.

They part, just barely, Mat humming, blissful and in thought.

“What?” Tito mumbles against Mat’s mouth, eyes still shut.

“I liked what we had,” Mat admits, feeling bold. He leans in for another kiss that Tito ends up denying him.

“You can’t just—” Tito pulls away, once he must realize the severity of Mat’s words. “That’s the problem.”

Mat stands, stunned momentarily. Tito is sad about a guy—one who won’t date him and just wanted to hook up. It’s a crappy feeling that Mat is beginning to understand. It’s complicated and yet no different than Mat, who, trying to sort his feelings and laying them out on the line, realizes that maybe Tito did the same thing to him that this guy did to Tito.

It’s all pretty fucking unfair to him, Mat thinks.

“So you can use me, but the second someone does it to you, it’s a problem?” Mat shakes his head as a brief distraction from the building sickness in his stomach. “Cool story.”

“That’s not fair,” Tito says quickly, eyebrows furrowed. “I mean, you used me, too.”

Mat wants to protest—it’s hard to use someone when you wake up one day and have feelings for them. But maybe that’s the same thing. Maybe he’s falling for Tito and using him in a different way—for affection and comfort. Maybe Tito’s right all along.

***

Mat calls Jordan the second he’s back in his room.

“Wait,” Jordan says into the receiver. “Rewind.”

“I mean, you knew all along.” Mat hopes Jordan knew, anyway, otherwise he does now. “I don’t know how, but—”

“Yeah,” Jordan admits. “Because Tito isn’t exactly subtle when it comes to you.”

“What did he say to you?” Mat sinks down onto his bed, hoping for some sort of insight. 

“He didn’t _tell_ me anything specifically,” Jordan laughs, softly. “But he did go on a bit of a wild spiral about some unrequited crush a few days before going on a date with your body double.”

“Wh—” Mat falls silent, trying to process it all.

“He meant you, you idiot.”

“You don’t know for sure.” Mat holds his breath for probably the fifth time that week, heart beating quickly.

In his defense, he didn’t know what Tito meant to him until it was too late. It makes sense, though, that he’s woken up in some twisted mess that only he and Tito could find themselves tangled it.

“Ask him out, dude.” Jordan says. “Because so help me God, if I’m stuck in Denmark with the world’s two most miserable kids—”

“Okay, fuck.” Mat says.

“Good luck!”

When Jordan hangs up, Mat doesn’t fall back onto his bed with a groan like he wants to. He knows that’s the cop out route that Jordan wouldn’t allow if he weren’t currently also on beach somewhere, the asshole.

So Mat decides to approach things like an adult and go to Tito’s apartment instead.

***

“Hey,” Mat says when he walks into Tito’s apartment unannounced.

Tito looks up from his usual spot on the couch, mouth half-open. “Do you... need something?”

“Go out with me.”

“Now?” Tito stands up slowly. “Did something happen?”

“No,” Mat begins and then there he is retreating back into that hole of hidden emotions that he told himself he wasn’t going to do anymore. “Okay, yes, sort of?”

“Where are we going?” Tito grabs his hoodie from the back of the couch and then smiles, slow. It’s another one of those things that Mat loves about Tito. How easy he goes along with him, even when there’s little to no context given.

“I talked to Jordan.” Mat closes in on Tito, grabbing his arm.

“Oh?”

The thing is, Mat isn’t good at talking about his feelings—he knows this. His first instinct is to kiss Tito, but the physical aspect of things is what got them into this mess in the first place. So, hands slightly shaky, he gives Tito’s hand a small squeeze and wills himself to talk about it.

“I like you,” Mat admits and it feels like a weight is lifted off of his shoulders.

“I… like you, too?” Tito looks down at their hands, then up again. “You’re my best fr—”

And that’s the moment that Mat finds kissing Tito to be appropriate.

***

When they show up to the restaurant, Mat hands his car off to a valet and leads Tito inside with a smile. It’s a much fancier establishment than either are used to, but Mat was determined to pull out all of the stops.

He skips the whole flowers business, but once they’re seated, somehow pulls off ordering one of the more expensive bottles of wine. 

“This is,” Tito begins, looking around in awe. “It’s a lot.”

“Too much?” Mat bites his lip because it kind of is.

“It’s nice,” Tito says with a smile and looks over the menu.

It’s in French—a lot of fancy phrases that Mat doesn’t recognize, but luckily, he knows enough to get by. Tito skims through it easily, and once they order, go back to enjoying their wine and the company of one another.

When the food comes out, Mat just about loses it.

Tito looks at his plate of food and then to Mat, biting his lip to hold back the slight smirk that crosses his face.

“It’s um, well,” Mat says, looking at the plate that’s placed in front of him. His food looks good, too, but there’s so little of it, that he doesn’t know what to say. “It smells good?”

“Yeah,” Tito says with a smile. He’s, at least, trying to be polite and shows Mat his appreciation by taking a bite. “It’s really good.”

It’s a good dinner, overall, even if when the valet brings his car back around, his stomach feels more full of wine than anything else. Tito gets into the passenger seat, hugging the half-empty bottle wine (their second) that they didn’t finish over dinner.

“Thank you.” Tito pulls on his seatbelt with a bit of a struggle, refusing to set down the wine. 

“Taking that home with you?” Mat laughs, looking at the bottle of wine. 

“Shit, maybe?” Tito laughs, too, fumbling with the bottle. “I’m… kind of drunk.”

“I noticed,” Mat says, glad he didn’t drink nearly as much. Drunk, happy Tito is probably his favorite part of the night so far. “Maybe you shouldn’t go home with everyone who gets you drunk.”

Tito just rolls his eyes, grinning. “That’s why you’re not coming with me.”

They’re only on the road for about five minutes before Mat pulls off his tie and throws it in the back seat. He’s warm, hungry and a little over being classy because he catches Tito taking a sip straight from the wine bottle and—yeah, it’s illegal, but also pretty funny.

“Haven’t you had enough?” Mat raises an eyebrow. “I’ll take that away from you.”

“It’s just...” Tito goes serious. 

“Wait,” Mat says in a moment of pure brilliance when he passes a McDonald's. “How does a reroute sound?”

Tito looks out the window as Mat does a U-turn and a smile forms. “Oh thank God,” he finally admits. “I’m _starving_.”

It’s ends up being Mat’s other favorite part of the date—the two of them sitting in an empty parking lot, Tito leaning against him and laughing as they feed each other double cheeseburgers.

***

Their date is over when Mat pulls up to Tito’s apartment, both of them finally full and content.

Tito, stuffing a bunch of wrappers into a bag looks out the window, stops what he’s doing when he realizes he’s home. 

“I had a good time tonight,” Tito says, opening the passenger door. “Dinner was great. Especially the second course.”

Mat laughs. “Yeah, remind me not to try and be upscale next time.”

“You’re not classy, anyway.”

“I can be _very_ classy, thank you,” Mat says, thinking back to Tito’s classy-means-no-sex-after-dinner theory. He won’t say a moment of desire doesn’t cross his mind, the way Tito stands next to his car, streetlight illuminating behind him, casting an almost angelic glow. 

It’s a different kind of desire, Mat realizes. 

“Can you?” Tito grins, his hand on the roof as he leans in.

“Yes.” 

“I’m not,” Tito admits. “Do you want to come inside?”

Mat hesitates, hand resting still on the steering wheel. If Tito is testing him, Mat’s about to lose this game. “Okay… are you sure?”

Tito moves in one fell swoop—ducking down, sliding back into the car and pressing his mouth into Mat’s in one of the softest, heartfelt kisses he’s sure he’s ever received. It doesn’t feel loaded, like Tito’s kissing him out of obligation. It’s just… nice. 

And when Tito pulls back, he smiles, whispering, “positive.”

***

**EPILOGUE**

“Are you ready?” Mat meets Tito at his apartment with his luggage and a smile, which is ironic, because it’s the first day he’s _left_ Tito’s apartment since making things official.

“What did Seids say when you finally showed up?” Tito smiles.

“He said, and I quote, Who are _you_?” 

They both laugh and when the taxi pulls up, take turns loading their suitcases in the trunk. It isn’t like Mat completely left Seids in the dark. He’s stopped by a few times—to get some clothes, to spend some time with the kids. Just because they’re not his roots doesn’t mean he’s not thankful. It isn’t like Mat to turn his back on someone who’s helped him out.

When their bags are loaded up, then get into the back of the car, ready to say goodbye to New York for awhile in exchange for chasing a dream in Denmark.

“Have you talked to Jordan yet?” Mat asks a few minutes into the drive because he, admittedly, hasn’t. He’s not avoiding Jordan, it just… slipped his mind.

“Have I had time?” Tito wiggles his eyebrows and Mat just smirks, because... Fair enough.

It’s terrible and yet inspires Mat. He pulls out his phone, dials Jordan’s number and waits.

“Hey Barz,” Jordan says when he picks up. “What’s up?”

“Good news, Ebs,” Mat says. “You still have to listen to us, but we won’t be bitching anymore.”

Tito starts laughing and Jordan must get exactly what that means when seconds later, Mat’s phone blinks: _call ended_.

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspo from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xlbkg3o4LqQ).
> 
> Feel free to follow me on twitter @ dejadejayou or titobeauvillier on tumblr!


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